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The gateway would have better represented what was in store for me inside had it read “Arbeit Macht Frei.”

Baseball is over, and I have come a long way in my emotional healing process since attending Game 5 of the NLDS. At long last, I feel that I can write about that game without breaking down, hiding under my bed, and trembling for a few hours until the flashbacks go away. Okay. Deep breath. Here goes.

The tears wept by thousands of Nationals fans after the bottom of the 9th of Game 5 have long since turned into a fine mist that hovered over Nationals Park and descended to earth to water the outfield grass so it will grow still greener next seas-NO NO NO OH GOD IT’S ALL COMING BACK NO I CAN’T RELIVE IT ALL AGAIN NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

…

It was a perfect night for October baseball. The air was crisp, the sky was clear, the crowd was abuzz, and the Cardinals fan sitting to my right was shrieking like a rabid banshee biting off her own fingers.

Oh wait, that last thing does not belong in the “perfect” category. It seemed that a woman had traveled hundreds of miles from St. Louis to Washington, DC for the sole purpose of shortening the number of years before I need a hearing aid.

People haven’t been so excited about waving red towels since brides after their wedding nights in the middle ages.